


resonance

by shikachan



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Red String of Fate, Soulmates, Will add more tags as I go, space enthusiast taeyong loves stars and galaxies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 09:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26969647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shikachan/pseuds/shikachan
Summary: after a dream that seems more like a memory, mark finds himself being drawn to a certain six-foot tall johnny suh, president of the music club.(but in reality, they’ve met long before).
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong, Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	resonance

**Author's Note:**

> slight trigger warning: mentions of death (but temporary)
> 
> loosely inspired by uwma series

Everything dies. But perhaps, the saddest of them all, is the death of a dream.

The dreary sigh that escaped Taeyong’s thin lips was slow, almost as if his brain is exhausted from trying to process another rejection. If he reads another “ _we regret that we are not able to offer you admission to the university_ ”, he’s going to gauge his eyes out. 

He crumples the letter, stuffing it into his locker and repressing further back in his mind. 

The bitter laughter that unintentionally escaped his thin lips might have made him look slightly maniacal to the students walking past but really, he was laughing at his own stupidity. 

_This is it_ , Taeyong mentally promises himself. Nothing good has ever come out of getting his hopes up. Reality always has other plans anyways. 

Bubbles of laughter float down the long hallway, reminding Taeyong that the others are waiting for him. He checks his watch, _ten minutes till the announcement._

The brunette hurriedly peeks at himself in his tiny locker mirror; and realizes he looks like shit. The red rimming around his eyes became more evident, his cheap dress shirt chafed the nape of his neck leaving a blooming rash and his godforsaken silver bowtie had unraveled again for the third time tonight. If he was going to win any title tonight, it would be “Most likely to get dumped on Prom Night.”

“You look just fine,” a voice breathes behind him. Taeil smiles at Taeyong’s reflection. 

Taeyong jolts at his best friend’s intrusion before turning around, slowly offering a smile. The elder’s rustic choice of a burgundy suit with peak lapels created the perfect contrast against his milky white complexion and if Taeyong was to deny that the smile gradually faded off his lips and little tinge in his heart wasn’t envy, it would be a definite lie. 

He turns back with an unsatisfied huff. “I look ridiculous,” Taeyong laments.

“Ridiculously cute, yes, that has been established,” Taeil retorts while adjusting his slicked back hair in the mirror. Taeyong only rolls his eyes and shuts the locker. 

“By the way, why didn’t you let _him_ pick you up?” Taeil questions. “Didn’t he get his driver’s license like, two weeks ago?”

“Um,” Taeyong swallows, another knot entangles in his throat. “His parents don’t know about us.”

“Still?” Taeil questions bewilderedly. “Damn, if I were you, I would’ve been suspicious about this whole thing.”

A pin drop moment occurs. 

The air suddenly becomes thin, causing Taeil to immediately retract, seeing his best friend’s eyebrows knit unsettlingly. “Sorry, I just thought, after all this time-”

“-We’re getting there,” Taeyong reassures. “He’s actually planning to tell them on his birthday this Friday.”

But he’s too far gone in his mind. All the reasons he should not do this came gushing in, as if his body chemistry just sent them a blanket invitation. 

Taeil tucks his chin under before clearing his throat. “C’mon, I heard it’s almost time for the announcement.” And the younger allows himself to be dragged into the hall where the rest are waiting for him. 

Taeyong arms himself with a few drops of Visine for his red eyes and pops his collar to hide the allergic reaction on the nape of his neck. He prays that his bowtie cooperates and doesn’t fall apart mid-dance. 

Above all, he hopes he looks decent enough after spending the last of his savings to make this prom night perfect. Even though he feels slightly reassured since Taeil convinced him that he looks fine. 

Secretly, he hopes Doyoung thinks so too. 

♾️

The pair weave their way through the crowds, with Taeil expertly dodging the colony of balloons floating in their paths to avoid the static messing up his hair again. The basketball court now appears like a knock-off version of the prom scene from _Footloose_ . Yet despite the fake stars dusted across cheap silky banners and the strong scent of plastic, Taeyong gazes up in awe. _It’s all he’s ever wanted._

“There he is,” Taeil nudges Taeyong, before dropping his voice to a whisper. “Wait for my cue, alright?”

The younger nods and follows his line of vision, trailing up the slender frame that was leaning against one of the tables. Sure, he’s just standing there, but the way the backlit hue traces his broad shoulders down to his arms pouring himself a drink truly creates the urge for Taeyong to have a pinch himself moment. No one should look this good. 

Taeil strides up to him first, “Dude, we were looking for you everywhere.”

Doyoung gently sets the ladle down in the bowl, replying his senior with a smile. His cedar orbs find their way down at the blonde shadow peering behind Taeil. 

When Taeyong states that there’s something about the way he carries himself - a calm yet confident demeanor that never fails to render him speechless - he meant this. 

But just as he is about to part his lips to ask Doyoung for a dance, hints of spicy cinnamon notes invade the air; _which could only mean..._

“Ugh, how has it only been an hour and my hair has already fallen flat,” a high pitched voice trills through their conversation. 

Taeyong quietly eyes the intruder. 

Doyoung chuckles as he offers the drink in his hand to the girl - _Jiyeon, his throat constricts_ \- beside him. She accepts it, using her other perfectly-manicured hand to fluff her hair nonchalantly. 

Thankfully, Taeil breaks the tension. “Oh by the way, Jiyeon, your lecture notes are with me.” 

She pauses mid-sip. “Oh right! Thank you so much Taeil! I totally forgot after class,” she replies, her sugary words and cloying tone bound to infect anyone within a ten-foot radius of her with diabetes. 

“No worries,” Taeil smiles. “It’s in my locker.”

Jiyeon turns her heel and gleams at Doyoung. “I’ll be right back,” she whispers and pats Doyoung’s chest before following Taeil. 

Taeyong had half the mind to follow Taeil because, honest to god, he shouldn’t be left alone especially in a situation such as this. His body stupidly shivers despite it being 30 degrees indoors. 

“Hey Taeyong.”

The blonde keeps his eyes firmly planted on his feet though, can't bear to look up at Doyoung’s eyes. An uncertainty that's probably hidden there, a leftover from when Taeyong served up his heart in his open palms.

“You look good,” Doyoung teases. Taeyong flushes further. 

“Really? The bowtie looks kinda stupid on me, huh,” Taeyong laments as he tugs on anxiously. 

“You look just fine, babe,” he drawls.

Something makes Taeyong’s heart jump, different from the way Taeil says it. It’s always different with Doyoung. 

He sucks in more air than his lungs allowed. 

“You don’t look half bad either,” Taeyong exhales softly but the tip of his ears turn red, dead giveaway. Doyoung chuckles.

Another beat passes. _Five minutes left._

He clears his throat with intention. “So, where’s Jiyeon’s date?” Taeyong pries. Doyoung shakes his head, “She decided to go alone instead because all the guys that asked her were either jerks or creeps.”

“Must be kinda lonely,” Taeyong comments, reaching out to grab himself a drink seeing that his boyfriend wasn’t going to anytime soon. 

But once again, Doyoung shakes his head. “She seems fine, I’ve been keeping her company.” Taeyong lifts the cup for another sip of the punch that now seems to leave a rancid aftertaste.

Doyoung states, “The music here sucks.” 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Taeyong nods at his observation.

Without another word, Doyoung extends his hand. The corners of Taeyong’s lips upturns, accepting as the brunette leads him to the dancefloor. They slow dance, Taeyong feels the warmth of Doyoung’s chest as he leans in but notices his hands are cold to the tips. 

Taeyong swallows at the thought, wants to shake them off and focus on the moment - that Doyoung is here, thrumming with longingness under his fingers. He nudges closer and inhales, nosing up the line of his neck, before promptly pulling back, nose crinkled.

“What?” Doyoung blinks.

“Y’know I hate strong scents,” Taeyong replies.

Doyoung sighs quietly, but the sound is underlain with a layer of frustration. Taeyong notices. He bites his lip to hold back from regurgitating his word vomit.

_Just under a minute to go._

The brunette runs his fingers at his exhale, a few strands falling out from its gelled frame. “How about we just try to enjoy the rest of the night, hm?” Doyoung suggests.

Taeyong becomes silent, burrowing back into the crook of Doyoung’s neck. Overlooking his shoulder, Taeyong’s eyes begin frantically searching the crowd on the dance floor for his best friend. But his eyes can’t reach what he can’t see, and so Taeyong clings on to the strong arms that are carefully swaying his hips to the rhythm. 

The thing is, Doyoung makes him feel amazing. He’s a searing presence in his body, a reassuring touch on his cheek, and piercing eyes, keeping Taeyong in place as he chases the fickle idea of being in love. It’s a bit ironic really, because he doesn’t think Doyoung even cares that the person in his arms is specifically Taeyong.

It’s just a thought though, Taeyong would like to think that it matters. 

His hazel orbs soon drift off to the large clock displayed on the wall. He watches the minute hand. _In three, two, one…_

A resounding chime rings through the hall. 

Everyone on the dance floor is interrupted by the audio feedback of the microphone screech. The light shines on center stage, where one of the teachers dressed in an ill-fitting tux awkwardly chuckles at the mishap. “Alright, can I have all the nominees for prom king and queen on standby, please,” he announces. 

Almost immediately, a couple of heads whip towards Doyoung and Taeyong. Anticipation condense in hushed whispers and footsteps quietly shuffle on the floor. Nearby, a lanky guy dressed in all black nudges Doyoung. 

“There goes my chances of winning against the high school sweetheart couple,” Ten remarks with a grin. 

Taeil overhears this and approaches them, scoffing playfully. “Please, you’re the one fooling yourself if you think you have a chance against them.”

Doyoung simply rolls his eyes at their teasing while the boy in his arms giggles giddily. 

“The prom king title goes to; Kim Doyoung!”

Doyoung’s friends burst into whistles and pats his back until he’s hunched over. Taeyong cheers the loudest, he likes to think so. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he woots as Doyoung walks upstage and receives the crown. 

“And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for,” the host side-grins, slowly opening the envelope. 

Taeyong prepares his heart, trying to calm down. He sees the spotlight shining, scanning the room before it lands a few feet across. Ten and Taeil exchange stunned looks as the crowd encircling Jiyeon parts like the red sea. An applause erupts as she bathes in a sea of praise and adoration. The hall feels like it’s gone truly deafening yet the world around Taeyong goes mute.

He sees it in slow motion as she gracefully ascends on stage and collects her crown with a bouquet of roses. The crystals around her neck momentarily blind him before his eyes fall to the expression on Doyoung’s face. 

The facade he desperately tried clinging onto all night begins to crack, noticing the way Doyoung’s eyes sparkle. It reminded him of the same way his eyes softly fell on him when he first met Doyoung in class. His gaze, his touch, his smile, used to be reserved for Taeyong, now given to Jiyeon. 

Taeil shakes him from his daze, “Taeyong, are you okay?”

“Hm?” He looks at his best friend, “Yeah,” he trails off.

“You’re crying,” Taeil points out. 

Taeyong blinks, not realizing the tear tracks dripping down his cheeks. There's no breeze, no tangible air, just a flash of sense telling him that his body feels frosted over. 

For a moment he nearly chokes, breathing deeply to try and pull the non-existent air into his lungs. Nothing enters beyond a sharp, putrid scent, stirring some sort of recognition in him.

Taeil approaches him sympathetically, “Yong, you wanna get some air outside-”

“-It’s fine, I think I’ll head home.” Taeyong makes his exit through the back door. 

“Taeyong, wait!” Taeil shouts after him but his best friend has already bolted out of the building. 

With his mind still reeling, Taeyong could only laugh bitterly at himself. He had been so lost in constructing scenarios for the evening ahead that it’s not surprising to see how deluded he has become. He should’ve seen this coming. The signs were so clear.

The loud thunder startles the blonde out of his thoughts. Taeyong casts his eyes to the darkened sky as the thunderstorm brews angrier by the minute. Cold icy raindrops pierces his pale skin as he runs across the slippery road to the nearest bus stop. 

_Shit_ , he curses under his breath, noticing his footwear has quickly overwhelmed as water seeped in through the stitching. A sudden pang of familiarity rises in him, like this has happened before.

The rain begins to fall so thickly that he almost misses the dim headlights of a taxi passing by. Shielding his eyes from the rain, he hails the taxi with his free hand. His ride comes to a slow stop at the curb. 

Taeyong opens the back door, “How much to-”

“No, sorry. Please close the door.” 

A confused look etched on Taeyong’s face as he blinks through the heavy rain, fogging his view. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not letting you drench my car seats! Go find another cab,” the driver yells as he speeds off, rudely splashing large puddles of rainwater all over Taeyong. 

He recoils back to the pavement instantly, coughing up the acidic rainwater left in his mouth repulsively. Still panting, Taeyong wipes his mouth with his sleeve, groaning that he now has to pay for the rented tux because not even dry-cleaning could remove the mud off his pants. _The universe really has it out against him,_ he sighs. 

Turning his heel, he has half the mind to walk all the way back home. But the road ahead lies ominously dark with hardly any cars passing by, no pedestrian in sight. A fallen branch knocked over by the violent winds howling above him provided Taeyong enough reason not to do so.

He curls on the roadside, utterly defeated. Maybe it’s the faulty street light flickering or the lack of oxygen flowing to his brain that makes him dizzy, unable to process any intelligible thoughts. There are so many things he’d like to say at this moment to Doyoung; as well as so many things he couldn’t say to him. Yet the only comprehensible matter was the strange feeling of recognition stirring, like his heart had experienced the same sunken feeling one too many times. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Taeyong spins around to see Doyoung panting, umbrella in hand as he goes up to Taeyong. His hair appears disheveled, indicating that he’s been searching high and low for the latter. 

“Shouldn’t you be inside?” Taeyong snides. Doyoung replies sharply, “I could say the same for you.”

He approaches closer. “I was looking for you everywhere until Taeil told me you went outside.” 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t feel like listening to another second of crappy music.” 

“Yong,” the brunette begins, “Is this because you didn’t get the prom royalty title? Look, if it means that much to you-” he replies, beginning to remove his sash. 

Taeyong cuts him off with a look of disbelief, scoffing. Something hits him, as Doyoung’s brows unknit in realization.

“Yong, let’s talk inside, okay?” his tone drops softer and reaches for Taeyong’s arm. 

The pent up frustration in Taeyong builds up. He pushes away Doyoung’s advances with force, the umbrella now flung across the road. 

Doyoung stares at the man in front of him incredulously, feeling his heart painfully shattering inside. 

“How long?” Doyong questions. Taeyong stays silent.

“Taeyong, how long have you been feeling like this?” he repeats, his voice still stoic.

A pause. Taeyong’s shivering at this point, his teeth chattering at the sudden gust of wind blowing against his soaked suit. “Four months,” the blonde finally admits. 

Something pools in Doyoung’s stomach. “So when Jiyeon transferred here,” the brunette words it more as a statement than a question.

Taeyong simply grits his teeth. “Guess you’re not as clueless as I thought.”

“This is absurd. You know Jiyeon and I are just friends!” Doyoung’s voice is louder than he means it to be and Taeyong flinches for a moment. 

His voice softens. “The stress is overworking you. Come inside, babe.”

“I’ll be honest with you. Over the past few months, in between bouts of fury and incredulity, I have felt real despair,” Taeyong breaks off, voice disappearing into hoarseness. 

He doesn’t know when he began crying, unable to distinguish between the saltiness of the raindrops or the tears on his face. But he also doesn’t feel Doyoung’s fingers brush them away like he used to. “I know what you’re thinking. You’d didn’t think I’d notice, did you?” and Taeyong is fully crushed with every word he utters. 

Doyoung feels his spine stiffen. “Oh but I noticed,” he retorts, “I counted the nights where you were constantly locked up in that bomb shelter you call an observatory, fiddling with your telescope instead of spending time with me.”

“Only because you’re spending every waking hour with her! Tell me a time where you actually recall a sentence that doesn’t end with Jiyeon,” Taeyong continues, adding fuel to the fire. “Thank god for my second home in the observatory. Otherwise where else was I supposed to go?”

“To me! Come to me!” Doyoung emphasized with his arms opened wide. 

“Stop-” Taeyong sobs as he takes a step back, “Don’t _fucking_ lie to me anymore!”

“Five years,” Doyoung mutters, “you’re gonna throw it all away?”

“Did you see yourself out there? It feels like _you_ already broke up with _me_ in front of the whole school!” Taeyong exclaims, downright humiliated. _How can Doyoung possibly love him like before?_

They used to talk about their forever days, now they break each other without mercy. Everything was a lie. 

Doyoung balls his fists tightly, another comeback ready on the tip of his tongue but he chooses not to. He understands it can be hard to find any comfort in situations like these. And he has no desire to utter any hollow phrases to Taeyong, any meaningless pablum that sounds deep but is of no actual consolation.

Truth to be told, he needs the reassurance too. 

The admission hangs in the air for a long moment before Doyoung walks toward the discarded umbrella on the road that was thrown in a fit of rage. He breathes heavily before turning around, facing Taeyong. 

“Do you even love me?”

The pair stare resolutely at each other. Doyoung fringe falls past his eyes, his matted hair stuck to his forehead. But he doesn’t miss the way Taeyong’s unwavering eyes rimmed red, this time he’s sure it is his tears.

Doyoung knows this could be their turning point. They could change things for the better. Instead he just watches as Taeyong lurches at him, the force pushing him back to the ground while Taeyong’s lithe body is hurled twenty feet down the road by an oncoming semi-truck. Doyoung’s brain short-circuits, barely having enough time to process the incident before his eyes. 

The hiss of the tyres resonate in his ears as the truck crashes into the roadside barrier and bursts into flames. The asphalt and thick smoke fill the air mixed with the heavy rain. His eyes search the accident scene, looking for the familiar face amidst the mangled metal. Doyoung commands his shaking knees to rise and seek out for him through the downpour. 

After several long seconds of silence he hears a cry, it is a way off that much he could tell. He approaches the unmistakable blonde haired figure, but almost immediately the lingering regret washes over his face. Taeyong bleeds profusely, a large shard of metal plate imbedded into his chest and his right leg contorted in a ghastly manner. 

Taeyong looks up at him, the blood from his ear slowly making its way down the side of his jaw. He breathes heavily, mouth turning up into a sad smile, “Guess you have your answer.”

Doyoung covers his mouth in horror, unable to contain the cries spilling from his lips. He sobs as his trembling fingers check his pulse. “Fuck, Taeyong - swear I didn’t mean it!” he pulls off his coat to try to stop the bleeding. 

“Stay with me! Please just- just yell at me one more time!” Doyoung pleads, unsure if he should go get help from Taeil or Ten but also unwilling to let go of the fragile figure in his arms. 

Taeyong hushes him, cradling Doyoung’s cheek in his hand as he looks up. “I know you can’t see it now,” he coughs, blood beginning to taint his lips red, “but the stars look pretty tonight, don’t they?”

He cries even harder, taking his hand in his. “Please Yong-ah, don’t leave me. It’s you - it’s always been you.” Though there are things in life that Doyoung wanted to give up, Taeyong was never on his list. But now, as he lay the blonde on his lap watching as he suffers and dies slowly beneath him, he realizes how selfish he has been. 

Taeyong huffs a faint breath of laughter in his ear and Doyoung relishes it for the last time, “You remembered what I said, right? About the stars?”

Doyoung simply nods.

Taeyong looks like he wants to say something further, something important while the thick fumes choke him in between breaths. Doyoung awaits patiently, encouraging him with his eyes. 

But in a split second, the lightning cracks one final time. And Taeyong’s hand goes limp in his. 

Doyoung stays silent for a moment after, safe for his staccatoed breaths. His cries are lost beneath the following thunder that rolled overhead. He calls out his name again, shrill but loud, anything in a desperate attempt to pierce the thick air. 

There’s no such thing as forever, especially when the end originally exists. 

Still cradling Taeyong in his arms, the brunette reaches into his front pocket, holding out the corsage in his bloodied hands that he didn’t manage to give in time. “I promise,” Doyoung quietly whispers, as he ties the frangipani corsage on Taeyong’s hand, “I’ll do better - no, love you better in the next life.”

The brunette’s fingers reach for a stray fragment of glass from the collision. It pains him to do this, and if Taeyong was still alive, he would surely stop him. He presses a gentle kiss onto Taeyong’s soft blonde hair.

Doyoung closes his eyes shut and mentally counts to three before plunging the shard in his neck. He gasps at the searing pain burning in his throat until he could breathe no more, the shard lodged in his collarbone blocking his airway. _It’s what he deserves._

Doyoung’s head lolls to the side, catching a glimpse of the bright moon above the sullen rainclouds. _If someone granted them the ability to turn back time, would they have been able to be a bit more honest?_ He ponders his last thought before his lungs eventually give out. They both bleed on the road, with only the rain to wash away their blood and grief. 

Everything dies. But perhaps, the saddest of them all, is the death of a dream.

♾️

The loud school bell rings like bullets firing continuously from a rifle. Mark awakens abruptly, red lines running across his face as he slowly props his hands on the desk. 

“You must’ve had a deep sleep,” his classmate Donghyuck observes. 

Mark yawns and absentmindedly wipes a stray tear from the inner corner of his eye. He wasn’t particularly tired during the day but for some reason, he couldn’t awaken from this dream. 

He lets out a sigh, scanning the now empty classroom. Mark was in such a deep slumber that he didn’t realize class had ended. Donghyuck chuckles, as if he could read his mind. He slings Mark’s bag over his shoulder. “C’mon, we gotta go.”

Mark blinks. Donghyuck rolls his eyes and clarifies, “To sign up for club activities, remember? Today’s the last day.”

“Oh, right.”

Donghyuck busily drones on about the boring class earlier and how the teacher wouldn’t stop talking about shifting glaciers but Mark’s mind has filtered out his voice. 

He remembers figments of it. Rainy night. A sudden flash of luminous light. And a scream.

The more he thought about it, the more it gave him a headache. So, just like with every problem he faced, Mark simply ignores it and pushes it to the back of his mind.

But a small part of him prays, the dream would only remain a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> in honour of nct 2020 resonance release (that also happens to coincide with my bday lmao), i decided to post the first chap of this new fic up
> 
> to clarify, there's no specific year stated but the timeline basically goes;  
> taeyong-doyoung timeline is in the past  
> mark-johnny timeline is in the present
> 
> hope this makes sense of the future chaps! feedback is always welcomed :)


End file.
